


lieutenant

by svitzian



Series: finnpoe fics [5]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party, Pining, Poe Dameron/Finn Fluff, Roommates, Slow Dancing, finn is so good and beautiful and brave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svitzian/pseuds/svitzian
Summary: Finn gets a promotion. A celebration ensues.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: finnpoe fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539958
Comments: 18
Kudos: 225





	lieutenant

Finn is terrified of General Organa.

Well, maybe that’s not fair to say. He’s not _terrified_ , not like he was of the officers he’d worked under in the Order, the officers who he knew could order him decommissioned with a snap of their fingers. General Organa still makes him nervous, though, and for good reason. The woman is a legend, after all. Finn can’t count the stories he’s heard about her. In the Order, they were twisted, painting her as a war criminal and terrorist—but he’s since realized the truth, with a little help from old holos and archives and Poe’s dramatic reenactments.

General Organa, Finn learns, is much more than a general. She’s a princess, for one thing. And a Senator, and a war hero, and a hell of a lot of other things. Most of all, she’s _powerful._ There’s a reason why she’s usually the only person who can shut Poe’s mouth when he’s in the middle of some rant—and, Finn remembers, she can do it with just a single meaningful look, like it’s no difficult feat at all.

(Finn knows it actually is quite difficult.)

Leia commands a room in a way Finn has never really experienced before. It’s not the same as his old officers, capitalizing on the underlying fear of their subordinates to keep hold of their own power. People aren’t _afraid_ of Leia. They respect her—a deep respect, one that can silence a room in just a moment. It’s pretty astonishing to watch, Finn thinks.

He respects the General, too—of course he does, after all that she is, all that she’s done. But a little part of him is maybe just a little bit scared of her, too. That’s the part of him that he can’t totally shake, can’t just ignore no matter how hard he tries—the conditioning that’s still semi-internalized, that equates authority with fear.

It’s certainly nerve-wracking to be around her. She has these _eyes_ that look like they just see right into your soul. Rey said something once about her having the Force, and Finn thinks that makes a lot of sense, because Leia just looks at him sometimes like she really, _really_ knows him. When she looks at him like that, her eyes shooting holes through him like blasters, Finn wonders what it is that she sees.

Now is one of those times.

Leia is watching him carefully, like she’s evaluating him, and Finn can’t help the rigid posture that he takes up, like he’s back to being a Stormtrooper standing among his squad, properly at attention. Her nose crinkles a little—ever so slightly, and Finn feels his heart jolt into beating even faster. He hadn’t thought it could _go_ any faster.

She looks at him for one more moment, then sighs, and a slight, wise smile comes to her lips. Finn wonders what that smile means.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you here, Finn.”

Finn cannot possibly nod fast enough. “Yes. Uh. Yes, General, ma’am.”

He’d gotten the comm this morning—from the General herself, no lieutenants or captains acting as middlemen. _Finn,_ the message had read, brief and to the point as the General always was. _I’d like to meet with you today. Come to the command room when you have time._

That had been two hours ago, and Finn hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

He’d tried to distract himself. After all, the General said “ _when you have time,”_ not “ _right this instant_ ,” so that meant it would be weird if he just ran right over, right? He needed to give it some time, act natural. That was how he’d ended up back in the med bay, cataloguing supplies as he had been just about every kriffing day for a week. It was tiring work, counting patches of bacta, tallying them up and entering the records into their system, but somebody needed to do it, and Finn didn’t mind if that somebody was him. He could count just fine, after all.

He usually could, at least, when he didn’t have a meeting with the General on his mind. Now, he was fumbling over his numbers, losing track and re-starting about three times before he finally tossed the damn bacta patches down in frustration, effectively abandoning his efforts for some later time.

His mind wasn’t going to be clear again until after this meeting was over. If that meant going to the control room a little earlier than planned, well, he’d just have to do that.

That was how he’d ended up here, after a long walk spent debating with himself about what the General could possibly want from him. The first idea that came to his mind seemed reasonable at first, and it was an easy assumption. Maybe something had happened with the Order, something that she needed intel about the Order to deal with. He wouldn’t mind that so much, Finn thought, but he’d already told the General everything that seemed pertinent. What could he have left out that the General would need to know?

The idea that this was just about Order intel didn’t seem to add up, and so quickly, Finn’s mind replaced it with a plethora of other possibilities which gradually got worse and worse as he got closer and closer to the control room. By the time he was stepping into the command center, his palms were already sweating—and then everyone, all the soldiers and lieutenants and commanders and captains, turned to look at him, and the sweating only got worse.

_Deep breaths, Finn. You can get through this._

It wasn’t going to be bad, he tried to convince himself. If it was bad, it would’ve been urgent, too. Wouldn’t it?

The room was somewhat suspended for a few moments which Finn quickly seized in order to work himself up into even more of a worried frenzy—and then, mercifully, General Organa stepped forward from behind one of the command screens, nodding just once at Finn in greeting.

“Finn. It’s good to see you.” Her voice was firm, every bit the commanding officer that she was, but there was something friendly in it, too. It was a tone Finn wasn’t used to from his superiors, and without thinking, he met her gaze, stiffening a little the moment their eyes connected. “Let’s step into my office.” She stepped back, not waiting for him to agree, and Finn scrambled to follow after her, ignoring the eyes he could feel on his back as he slipped through the doorway at the back of the room.

That had let him to where he was now—standing stiffly and watching the General, waiting with bated breath to finally be told what the kriff was going on here, why he’d been summoned, what the General wanted from him. His palms are still sweating, worse now, and he hopes that whatever this meeting is, it won’t necessitate a handshake, because he’d rather keep his embarrassingly clammy hands to himself.

Leia seems to notice his nerves. (Of course she does, Finn thinks, because she notices everything, she’s got the kriffing _Force_.) Her smile grows ever so slightly, and more of that light twinkles in her eyes. Finn almost thinks he sees _amusement_ in her face.

“You don’t have to be so nervous.” She chuckles, and Finn feels a new rush of heat to his face. “And you certainly don’t have to look at me like I’ve got nine heads, either.”

“Sorry, General. Ma’am.” The words are rushed and stiff and awkward.

Her grip on her cane, the one supposed to be helping her as she recovers from the space sickness, is tight—so tight that Finn can see the unnatural whiteness of her knuckles. At first glance, he thinks that’s a bad sign, a sign that she’s upset or angry, that this meeting’s going to be exactly what he feared it might be—but then she starts walking, leaning on it just heavily enough to make Finn somewhat concerned as she makes her way to a chair, and he realizes just how wrong he was. He’s still in the clear. For now, at least.

The General sighs a little as she sits down, and for a moment, Finn sees the tired woman that must be hidden underneath the tough exterior she always maintains. She’s been through a lot lately, and even more in the rest of her life. Finn doesn’t know how she does it.

Just as soon as he gets that glimpse at Leia, though, the General is back—still smiling, though. Her eyes shine with something a little bit mischievous, and it makes Finn tense and relax simultaneously.

“Take a seat, Finn,” she says carefully, nodding her head towards the chair across from her, and her expression softens a little at the stiff, quick way Finn obeys what he sees as an order. “And relax a little, too. You’re not in any trouble.”

Finn doesn’t realize how tense he is until he hears those words. Suddenly, his shoulders are loosening, and he finally exhales a breath he didn’t quite realize he’d been holding. Right. Not in trouble. That doesn’t tell him what’s going on, though, and so he doesn’t relax completely, keeping his guard up as he shifts in his seat.

“If I’m not in trouble, General, then what’s going on?” It’s a question he never would’ve asked in the Order, but then again, he never would’ve asked _any_ questions in the Order. He didn’t have a death wish.

Leia looks amused at his question—in a good way, though. Not like she’s laughing at him. She shakes her head a little, and Finn doesn’t understand why, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask before she’s speaking up again.

“I wanted to check on you, Finn. To see how you’re doing, how you’re adjusting.” Her voice is gentle and _caring_ , like she actually wants to hear his answer, and Finn blinks.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak, trying to think of a response. Leia stares at him, eyes unblinking and still twinkling in that amused way.

“I—uh. I’m good, General. I mean. Well. I’m doing well.” Even Leia’s caring tone and accompanying smile aren’t enough to keep him from feeling like the room is somehow getting even hotter. His face is growing warm, his palms getting sweatier by the minute—and much like Poe, he suddenly finds that he can’t shut his mouth, even when it’s probably in his best interests to do so. “Everything is good. I’m cataloguing bacta patches, ma’am.” Probably not a _great_ think to say to make a good impression with a superior, but Finn’s not thinking things through very much. “I’m doing well, really. And—Poe is helping me.”

Leia listens attentively through all of his rambling, but at his last statement, her face finally shifts. Whether she realizes it or not, her lips slip into a grin, and she’s _definitely_ amused now. Finn kicks himself mentally.

“Poe’s a good man.” Finn knows this to be true, of course. But there’s something odd in Leia’s voice—like she’s sharing a secret with him. It feels oddly intimate, like they’re sharing something incredibly personal. “Reckless, sometimes, but he’s got a good heart. I’m glad you’ve got him to help you.”

Even if Finn is still a little confused by the nuances of her tone, he nods quickly at her last statement. “I’m glad, too.” His voice comes out _bold_ , like he’s forgotten that he’s talking to a superior officer—and he realizes belatedly that he pretty much has forgotten. Poe has that effect on him, sometimes. Makes him forget. “We, um, we’re sharing quarters.” The base is small enough to necessitate that. Finn felt like the luckiest man in the sector when Poe had offered to share with him. Rey might’ve been a good roommate, too, but for some reason she was holed up with Rose almost immediately. Poe had offered just before Finn could start worrying about rooming with a stranger, and Finn had readily accepted.

“That’s good,” Leia says softly, smiling a little bit more, before she leans back some in her seat. “You’re good for him.”

Finn doesn’t quite understand what that means. He knows Poe likes having him around, if only because the man says it so often. And—well, he supposes that he has saved the pilot’s life a few times over by now. Poe has done the same for him, though. Besides, he has a feeling that’s not what the General is talking about.

He doesn’t know _what_ the General is trying to say, but whatever it is, it has to do with Poe, and so he nods, clearing his throat a little and trying to give her a genuine smile. “Yes. That’s—yeah. He’s… really been helping me.”

(That’s not a lie. He spends most of his time with Poe, especially when Rey is busy reading her Jedi texts and meditating and Rose is off doing repairs. Poe is hands-on. He’s the one who walked Finn through the base at first, who’s showed him how the mess hall works or what foods are the best or where to go if he needs bacta or if his blaster isn’t firing right. If not for Poe, Finn isn’t sure what he’d do.)

Leia is watching him again, he distantly recognizes, but she’s not saying anything. The two lapse into silence, and once more, Finn wonders what this woman sees when she stares at him like this. It makes him nervous, no matter how casual she’s tried to make this conversation, and when her voice finally sounds again, he tries to subtly wipe his hands on his pants.

“I’m happy that you two are getting along. That’s not why I called you here, though, and I suppose we should get to business.” She sighs a little, like she’s about to launch into a debriefing, and Finn finds his heart suddenly deciding to beat faster again. This is it, then. Whatever this meeting is, whatever reason the General has for seeing him, he’s about to find out. _You’re not in trouble,_ he reminds himself, but the words don’t sink in no matter how many times he repeats them in his mind.

Leia looks up at him, straight into his eyes, and Finn feels like the air is sucked out of the room, just like it is when she’s in the midst of giving orders and orchestrating a battle. She pauses, and then despite what seems like an attempt not to, the corners of her lips twist up again into a smile once more. This time, though, the smile is a sad one. The amusement in her eyes is fading into something softer, more tender, and Finn swallows hard, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this.

Leia speaks before he can stress himself more.

“We’ve all been through a lot. You especially, though.” Finn blinks, his eyes fixing on Leia’s face, the wrinkles and worry that he sees there. If she’s going to tell him _he’s_ been through a lot, after enduring what she has… she’s lost _everything_. Or nearly everything, at least. How she keeps going, Finn doesn’t really understand.

Maybe she sees what Finn is thinking, or maybe she doesn’t. Either way, she gives a little shake of her head, and sighs again. This time, the exhale is heavier, and her hands tighten their grip on the cane they’re resting on.

“Let’s not talk about the hardships, though, or what’s been lost.” Somehow her voice still has so much weight, so much conviction. Her eyes, too, are fixed on him, imploring him to shift his focus towards the present—which, ever obedient to a superior officer, he at least attempts to do.

(It’s not easy, though. It never is.)

“You’re a brave man, Finn. I don’t know many who would’ve endured what you did and chosen to stay with us in the end. To keep fighting.”

The words are probably supposed to make him smile, or at the very least, give him some confidence and pride in his actions. Instead, he stiffens, his gaze shifting as he looks at the General, and while he knows it’s not his place to interrupt, he does it anyways.

“I don’t think that makes me brave, General.” The words rush out of their own accord. There’s a sense of urgency behind them, too. He didn’t do most of what he did because he was _brave,_ he did it because he was scared shitless, and it doesn’t feel right to accept praise for being scared. And choosing to stay—well, it wasn’t much of a choice at all, in the end. Choosing to stay, to fight, was terrifying. But his friends were here, and… even more than that. If he didn’t fight, if he didn’t at least _try_ to do something, it would be just as bad as if he’d never left the Order in the first place. After seeing what he had, he knew that something needed to be done, and he needed to be a part of that something. “I just tried to do the right thing.” 

General Organa is smiling a little now, and Finn finds that as much as her smile still leaves him a little nervous, it’s a lot better than seeing that sad, distant look she’d worn previously.

“Call it what you will, Finn,” she concedes slightly. Finn is glad for that, because this is something he’s willing to fight on (and he has a couple times, with Poe, long into the night.) Trying to be a good person does not make him brave. “Bravery, goodness. But whatever it is, you’ve got a lot of it—and I like that.” Her eyes sparkle with something playful for just a moment, and she leans forward slightly before giving him a sly wink, lowering her voice as though she’s confessing some secret. “Makes an old woman like me feel a little more hopeful about the future of the galaxy.”

For a split second, her words make Finn feel light and accomplished. Maybe, if he can at least give _General kriffing Organa_ hope, then he has managed to achieve something admirable.

The feeling doesn’t last long, though. Worry comes sweeping in after it, fear that maybe Leia is placing too much faith in him. So far, he’s mostly stumbled through this war, doing the best he can and screwing up pretty often. He’s not some galactic hero, not like _she_ is, not like she seems convinced that he is—or, perhaps, could be one day.

He wants to correct her, to tell her that he’s not some hero, he’s just a guy doing his best. He swallows that urge, though, because clearly, from the way she leans back and regards him carefully, she isn’t done speaking.

“All of that aside, you’re a good leader.” This compliment doesn’t strike him so hard, mostly because it’s one he’s gotten before, albeit in a very different context. Phasma had complimented him on the leadership of his squad often after exercises and drills, but it had never _just_ been a compliment. There had always been a “ _but_.” He was a good leader, but he was too concerned with the members of his squad. He was a good leader, but it was not proper field behavior to turn back so that he could help Slip if he’d taken a blaster to the shoulder. He was a good leader, _but._

Finn braced himself for the _but._

It didn’t come.

“You make good decisions—strategic decisions, but caring ones, too. That’s what we need right now, Finn. People who _care_.” Leia is leaning forward, meeting Finn’s eyes like she’s trying to communicate something to him. He can’t exactly piece together her message, though, because he’s still a little bit in shock from the positive tone this conversation has taken—and, in the back of his mind, he’s still waiting for the ‘but.’ It hasn’t come yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t, and if it does, he needs to be prepared. He won’t embarrass himself in front of the General.

“You care,” Leia continues, still looking him in the eyes. “And you’re a leader. And as I’ve said, the Resistance needs leaders desperately.” She shifts a little, one hand leaving the top of her cane to rest at her side now, but there’s still a little bit of movement.

Finn wonders if this is it, if she’s just called him here to compliment him in a way that makes Finn feel warm and nervous and awkward. She doesn’t stand or dismiss him, though. Instead, the hand that has just disappeared at her side comes back into play, this time in a fist, and she leans forward again, face slipping into a warm smile as she carefully enunciates her next words.

“You’ve always been a leader, Finn, but I’d like to make that official now.” She pauses before she holds out her fist, waiting until Finn’s eyes leave hers to glance at it instead before she continues, unfurling her fist to reveal a badge—a badge like the one Poe has on his flight suit, the ones that glint on the suits and uniforms of commanders and captains.

“Your badge, Lieutenant Finn.”

It’s not shiny or gleaming. In fact, it looks a little smudged and grimy, like it’s seen some things. Finn doesn’t mind that. For some reason, Finn actually _loves_ that. In the Order, all the officers’ badges were constantly polished and glossy. Every inch of a uniform had to be perfectly in regulation, after all, and that included rank badges.

This is such a far cry from the detached formality and rules of the Order that it makes Finn want to shout with joy.

He wants to shout for other reasons, too, of course, reasons that are still slowly sinking in. _Lieutenant,_ the General had said.

_Lieutenant._

It feels like the world is moving too fast around him. Distantly he recognizes that his cheeks hurt a little, but that’s the furthest thing on his mind right now. _Lieutenant_. He can’t keep himself from repeating that over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of it, to get his brain to catch up to what is apparently really, actually happening right now. He’s just been given a rank.

_Lieutenant,_ he thinks again, and happiness and surprise and somehow, love, are all bubbling up inside of him. Formality is the last thing on his mind right now.

“Thank you, Leia—I mean, I— _General,_ ” he says quickly, sounding like he’s out of breath. He can’t stop smiling, and he can’t stop looking down at that badge, though he does let his eyes dart up for a moment to catch a glimpse of Leia’s amused expression. She’s definitely entertained by his reaction. Whereas Finn might usually shy away or try to cling to the formality he knows he should have in the presence of an officer, he does not such thing right now, nor does he even entertain the thought. He’s just too damn _happy._

“No need to thank me, Lieutenant. You’ve earned it.” She’s smiling, too, he can just hear it in her voice. So this is really happening. This is real. _Kriff._ After another moment of him no doubt looking like a stunned, excited fool, Leia laughs and holds out the badge a little closer to him, mirth obvious in her voice—with a bit of sarcasm, too, because she _is_ Leia, after all. “You can take it, you know. It won’t bite.”

After she speaks up, Finn can’t grab the badge quickly enough. He takes it into his own hands, looking down at the silvery metal rectangle. There’s not much to it, just a couple red stripes and a dot, but that pattern means something. _Lieutenant_ , he thinks again, and his smile widens even more, eager eyes taking in every little detail of the metal plate. It’s not in the best condition, and not much of the grime comes off with a simple swipe of his thumb, but Finn couldn’t care less. It’s _his._ His badge. It means he belongs here, that he’s _somebody_ here.

It isn’t easy to finally rip his eyes off of the metal in his hand, but he does so anyways, looking up and finding Leia watching him with a fond look in her eyes. Something sad, too, but Finn chooses not to think too much about that. When she sees that he’s turned his attention back to her, she quickly takes command of the conversation again, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on her cane.

“I’m glad that you seem to be happy with the badge,” she comments. Some of that smile is still there, but it’s clear that she’s growing a bit more serious now. “It’s not exactly in the best condition, but it’s all we have.”

“I love it.” Finn doesn’t think twice about his words, because they’re just _true._ He can’t wait to pin the banged-up piece of metal onto his shirt, to display it with all the pride in the galaxy.

Leia lets out an amused huff again at the sheer directness of his words and the way he’s looking her straight in the eyes, committed to having his point heard and understood. “Good,” she replies, and after placing a bit more weight on her cane, she stands. Finn stands, too, because it feels like the natural thing to do.

“I’d like you in the command room tomorrow morning at 08:00 hours.” Even in his dizzy state of happiness, Finn knows an order, and he nods quickly, committing the information to memory. He’s a lieutenant now. That means he _really_ can’t disappoint.

“Yes, General,” he replies firmly, meeting her eyes. Leia’s authoritative façade faces a little to make room for that smile just for one more moment, and then she too nods, eyeing him over one last time with warmth in her gaze.

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” she says curtly—and, after a moment, her voice softens, more personal and almost conspiratorial as she leans in. “Now go celebrate.”

_Celebrate,_ she says, and Finn laughs, because he can’t imagine what that will be like. He’s going to have to tell everyone. He’s going to have to tell _Poe._

Oh, kriff.

  
Poe is going to smile so hard. Probably hug him, too.

It makes Finn’s heart skip a beat.

“Thank you, General,” Finn blurts out once again, and after quickly nodding his head, he slips out of that little office, his badge held tightly in his hand. Leia smiles after him, and as he navigates his way out of the command room, he can feel other officers looking at him, likely wondering what exactly is going on and why he’s smiling so much. This time, he doesn’t care.

He’s a _lieutenant._

He sets a brisk pace for himself on the way back to his quarters, his earlier bacta patch cataloguing long forgotten. Every person he slips by in the hallway is met with the flash of a wide smile. Finn can’t keep his energy in, or his happiness. He can almost _feel_ it coming off of him in waves. It feels extraordinary.

By the time he’s back at the door to his quarters, his fist is clammy with sweat from the tightness with which he’s holding his badge. He almost forgets that the badge is even _there_ as he raises his fist to type in his entry code to the keypad. When he realizes that he really is holding it, another rush of happiness pulses through him.

Poe had better be in their quarters.

With his free hand, Finn pounds in the entry code, choosing to keep the badge in his fist for now. The door slides open with somewhat of a creaking noise that Finn has gotten used to over the weeks they’ve been at this base, and he quickly steps inside afterwards.

When he sees Poe lounging over on his bed, surveying a holo carefully with that little crease in his brow he gets whenever he’s focused, Finn feels like General Organa has just promoted him all over again.

Poe’s concentrated face breaks after a moment, no doubt because of the creaking of their damn door, and when his eyes land on Finn, his expression shifts into one of mild surprise.

“You’re back early, buddy,” he greets, sitting up a little straighter and setting aside the holo for the moment. Finn is still _beaming_ like he’s just won the jackpot on Canto Bight, and after one more beat, Poe seems to notice that, too, just like how Poe notices everything about him. “And you’re looking pretty excited, huh? More goldenfruit in the mess hall?”

_This is a hell of a lot better than goldenfruit,_ Finn almost says, cheeky and thrilled as he is. Instead, he just holds out his clammy fist, opening it up to reveal his badge. The badge, he thinks, can speak for him.

For a moment, Poe just blinks at it, probably surprised that Finn didn’t speak up himself. Then he seems to recognize the pattern of red displayed on the silver badge, and his face shifts into something absolutely gorgeous.

(That’s a thought he’ll deal with later.)

It happens so fast, but in just a split second, Poe’s eyes have suddenly lit up brighter than Finn has ever seen them. He doesn’t even smile, at first, but then his gaze turns up towards Finn, and his lips break into a grin so big and warm and welcoming that Finn feels like the floor has fallen out from under him.

“Buddy,” he says, at first, and it sounds like a question, like he’s asking if Finn is serious. Finn nods quickly, pursing his lips together to try and contain his own excitement. The moment he sees Finn nod, though, Poe’s face is undergoing yet another transformation. The corners of his eyes crinkle with how hard he’s smiling, and Finn gets a glimpse of a dimple in his cheek before he’s being engulfed in one of the tightest hugs he’s ever felt.

“ _Buddy!_ ” Poe’s laughing now, clearly unable to contain his excitement, and Finn doesn’t try to hold back anymore, either. He’s laughing, too, his whole being drunk on happiness to the point where it actually makes him feel dizzy. He wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world, though.

He wouldn’t trade this moment for the world, either—Poe holding him tight and close while the two of them laugh. It’s like there’s no war going on, no battles to be fought or missions to be taken. Just the two of them, laughing and holding each other.

“—so _proud_ of you, Finn, buddy, I _knew_ you’d do it, I knew--!”

Finn snaps back to reality after committing that moment to memory. Poe’s pulled back a little now, just enough to let him look straight into Finn’s eyes with that welcoming, honest expression he always wears. His arms are still wrapped around Finn’s torso, though, still keeping him close as the pilot shakes his head, the excitement and _pride_ that Finn sees in his eyes making him feel warm to his very core.

“Kriff, Finn. A _lieutenant._ Look at you.”

Hearing Poe say it makes it feel real in a way that it didn’t before. “I know. I mean, _I know,_ ” he says quickly, and he shakes his head, because no matter how real it feels, he doesn’t think he’ll really believe it until he’s in the command center tomorrow. “I just found out. General Organa commed me this morning, but she didn’t tell me why, so I just went and she gave me the badge, and everything—”

Poe is pulling him in close again, hugging him so tight, and Finn wonders if those are tears that he feels in his eyes. He blinks rapidly to dispel them, grateful that Poe’s embrace keeps the man from seeing his face for the moment.

“I am so kriffing _proud_ of you.” Poe’s voice is firm and unyielding, and while Finn doubts a lot of things, especially when it involves him being praised, he doesn’t doubt this. Poe’s voice is just too honest, too genuine. The pilot is proud of him. Finn feels a lump in his throat and a swirling in his stomach, much like he does when he gets nervous—but this time, they’re not unpleasant. This time, the swirling feels overwhelmingly positive, like a sign of his excitement, and the lump in his throat probably has to do with the thickness of the emotions he’s feeling. He’s not feeling _bad,_ though, not in any sense of the word. He wishes that he could feel like this forever, actually, especially if that means keeping Poe’s arms around him.

Finn finally pulls away again once he’s confident that there isn’t any more obvious wetness in his eyes. His smile, though, is still just as present as ever, splitting his face to the point where his cheeks genuinely hurt. They’re going to be hurting for a while, though, because he doesn’t think the smile or the accompanying giddiness is going anywhere anytime soon.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Finn admits after a moment, cheeks garnering up some more heat at the confession, but Poe just shakes his head, gently clapping a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I know what you mean, buddy. But trust me, it is.” He chuckles some, shaking his head and looking back down to Finn’s hand. “Just take a look at that badge.” He frowns after a moment, presumably once he gets a better look at it, and his forehead wrinkles some. “… a little dirty, though, isn’t it?”

Finn flushes again, and his eyes join Poe’s in staring down at the piece of metal. “A little,” he admits, shrugging, but the soft ‘tsk’ that comes from Poe’s mouth tells him that the pilot isn’t feeling so dismissive of that fact.

“A little is still something,” he says with that frown still on his face, and in a moment, he’s taking the badge out of Finn’s hands, fingers brushing his palm as he does so. Even that little accidental touch is enough to make Finn feel woozy, like the fool in love that he’s slowly accepting he’s become. He can’t dwell on that now, though, because Poe is nodding his head towards the fresher at the back of his quarters. “C’mon. I’ve got a little something that might polish it off a bit.”

He’s walking away and slipping through the fresher door almost as soon as he speaks, and Finn blinks before quickly following after him, shaking his head. He’s barely in the doorway before Poe is turning back to face him, this time with a little jar in his hands, something semi-solid and off-white inside of it.

“It’ll clean it,” he promises, holding out the jar as if asking for approval. After a brief pause which he spends staring down at the substance inside of it, Finn nods. His badge is already precious to him, precious enough that he feels nervous about just throwing this random, greasy-looking stuff on it. No matter how nervous he is, though, he trusts Poe. He knows that Poe understands how much this badge means to him, and that means that he also knows Poe wouldn’t do anything to risk harming it.

Poe smiles a little at the approval, giving him a gentle nudge just to reassure him that it really _will_ be alright—and then he carefully places the badge down on the side table, using his now-free hand to twist the lid of the jar off. Two fingers carefully scoop out some of the semi-solid substance inside of the jar. A moment later, Poe is smearing the grease over the badge itself, covering it thoroughly until Finn can’t actually make out the details of the badge through the cloudiness.

“You’re sure this will clean it?” He doesn’t mean to _doubt_ Poe, really, but the badge looks a bit crummier than it did to start with.

Poe chuckles, setting the jar aside again before glancing up at Finn, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Trust me a little here, buddy. It’s gonna look as good as new.”

Finn nods and lets out a slow breath, stepping a little closer as Poe begins moving. “I do trust you,” he replies carefully, because even if Poe is joking, he wants to make sure that the pilot understands that. Finn doesn’t know that he trusts anyone as much as he trusts Finn.

Poe pauses in his movement and looks back at Finn again, smiling and shaking his head. “I know, bud. I trust you, too,” he affirms.

Finn relaxes a little more. Poe turns back to his work. This time, he’s shifting to get closer to the little sink in the corner of the room—and after a moment, he turns on the water. He waits a few moments before letting his fingers slip under the stream, like he’s testing the temperature. The water gets hot here. Finn learned that the hard way, stepping into a scalding hot shower for the first time after a lifetime of sonic showers that didn’t even _use_ water. It had made the scar on his back burn like Kylo’s lightsaber was searing his skin all over again.

He shakes that memory away quickly, unwilling to let himself get all worked up now. This is his time to be happy and excited, to cherish his promotion, and he’s not going to squander it.

Poe finally reaches his hand fully under the water, this time with the greased-up badge in it. Finn can’t see his exact movements right away, just a bunch of water splashing around—but then, gradually, he can make out the movements of Poe’s thumb rubbing along the badge in steady little circles. The thick white grease that previously kept the details of the metal out of sight begins to wash away, revealing the silvery gray badge with its red accents. It’s different now, though—brighter than before, looking a bit less scuffed up. It’s clean.

Finn can’t help the way he leans forward to watch Poe as he works, as the badge becomes cleaner and cleaner by the moment. He doesn’t realize just how close he is to the other man until Poe reaches to turn off the water and, just a moment later, turns to him, their faces somehow now just centimeters apart.

_I could kiss you,_ Finn thinks.

_That’s stupid,_ he thinks after.

_But I could kiss you,_ he thinks all the same.

Before the debate can rage on, Poe is cracking a smile and reaching for a towel, breaking the moment between them, and Finn is left swallowing and pretending that his palms aren’t sweating. Right.

No kissing, then. Because kissing would be stupid.

After a few swipes with the towel, Poe is pressing the badge back into Finn’s hand, fingers brushing his own again, and no matter how much Finn yells at himself in his head, he can’t stop his heart from beating away. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He must be quiet for a few moments, because Poe clears his throat, looking over at him expectantly. Finn scrambles to say something, _anything_ to keep him from making even more of a stupid mess of himself.

“It—it looks great,” he swallows thickly, and it _does_ , really. Finn’s mind is elsewhere, though, thinking about the wrinkles of Poe’s face when he grins like that.

Poe seems to ease up a little bit, accepting Finn’s response despite how awkwardly he choked it out— _thank kriff_ —and then he’s standing fully, moving back to the door and grabbing for his comm, tossed carelessly onto his bed.

“Glad to hear it, bud,” he says lightly, picking up the device before giving Finn a glance the man can only describe as absolutely mischievous. “Now, to plan the party.”

Finn is following after him with wide eyes already, but that word suddenly makes his feet stop and his face begin to heat up.

“Poe. I don’t need a _party._ ”

Poe’s raising his eyebrows, and already those quick fingers are typing out a message. “Sure you don’t, bud,” he replies a bit sarcastically, shaking his head. “You just got a promotion. You’re a kriffing _lieutenant._ We’re gonna throw you a party.”

Finn feels a little bit like he can’t speak, but he tries it out anyways. “We--?”

This time, Poe cracks more of a smile, looking up at Finn. “Yeah. _We_. You didn’t think it’d be just me, did you?” Finn doesn’t know how to say that somehow, he did. “Gotta tell everyone about this. Y’know, Rey, Rose, my whole squadron. _Big_ celebration. Music, dancing, drinks, food. It’ll be great.”

He says it so confidently that despite Finn’s inhibitions, he somehow actually _believes_ him. It must show on his face that he’s at least considering letting Poe go through with this, because Poe’s grin smiles even broader.

“See? Knew you’d love it, buddy. Just leave it all to me.”

Finn doesn’t know how to feel about a party, especially not a party focused on him. But Poe is still smiling like that, face bright and comm in his hands. Finn is a little bit in love and a lotta bit stupid, and so after a moment, he nods, ignoring the heat in his face.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll leave it to you.”

* * *

Finn almost regrets leaving it to Poe.

The repurposed debriefing room is crowded with bodies. Music is pounding in his ears, and he almost swears that he can hear the beat pulsing through his body, too. The smell is its own beast entirely, a peculiar and potent blend of the sweat of bodies pressed flush against one another and the lingering scent of alcohol, probably in large part from the abundance of drinks that have sloshed over the rims of their glasses over the course of the night.

It’s pretty much pure chaos—overstimulation, really—and Finn _almost_ regrets it.

Then he sees Poe across the room, though, with a green drink in his hand and a dazzling smile showing off the whites of his teeth, and he’s dancing in a way that is simultaneously hilarious and sexy, and suddenly, Finn doesn’t quite regret it at all.

When the sight of the pilot through the crowd of people starts to make his heart hammer in his chest and his palms sweat, he tries to rationalize. He’s had a couple drinks himself, by now, and the one that Jess passed him a while ago had tasted particularly strong. It’s probably the alcohol.

Or, even more probably. He might be in love.

That’s not something he needs to think about tonight, though. He doesn’t have to think about _anything_ tonight. This is a party, a celebration, a much-needed chance for him to clear his mind and enjoy himself—and to Finn’s surprise, it actually seems like it’s working. He feels relaxed, but not in a peaceful or tranquil way. It’s more that he just doesn’t feel like he needs to think. Just smile, and laugh, and drink, and dance. He’s letting loose in a way he never really has before, and it feels good. Really good.

Being the center of attention isn’t really as bad as Finn made it out to be, either. He’s wearing his badge, of course—though in the back of his mind, it occurs to him that after the night is over, he might need to ask Poe to clean it off again before his shift in the command room tomorrow. That’s a problem for tomorrow, though. For tonight, that badge is shining on his chest, displayed as proudly as it can be, and he’s Lieutenant Finn, smiling when people clap him on the back or cheer at him through the crowd or shout a toast in his name.

_Lieutenant,_ he remembers Poe saying, and the pride and happiness in his chest swells even further.

Poe. Right. He wants to go see Poe. He looks up again, trying to spot him once more across the crowd, but unfortunately, it seems like the man has moved. Finn frowns, standing as tall as he can to try and catch a glimpse of that curly heap of hair through the throngs of people, and when a hand suddenly lands on his back, he nearly jumps, spinning around quickly to see who it is that’s seizing his attention now.

He’s met with a wide smile and crinkled eyes and a face that he would recognize anywhere. The tension pours out of his body like he’s turned his drink upside down, and before he can even blink, Poe is pulling him into another hug. _Third hug of the day from him_ , Finn notes, before he’s lost in Poe’s embrace and his mind stops working altogether. Poe’s damn good at giving hugs.

“—bud? You need to sit down, or take a minute, or something?” Poe’s voice is concerned when Finn finally realizes that he’s speaking over the noise of the music and the million other conversations in the room. He’s pulled away a little, meeting Finn’s gaze with worry written all over his face, replacing that gorgeous smile. Finn mourns its loss, and rushes in his attempt to bring it back.

“Yeah. Yeah, fine,” he says, voice a normal volume at first, before Poe’s brow furrows and Finn realizes the man probably can’t hear him all too well. “I’m good,” he repeats, raising his voice this time, and relief wipes away the worry previously dominating Poe’s features.

“Good,” Poe says, the smile returning, and claps him on the back again. “This is all for you, buddy. Want you to enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

That’s what people have been saying to him all evening, that _he’s earned this._ Finn knows that they probably mean the promotion, and on that account, he thinks that maybe they’re right. He’s a good soldier, a good marksman, and he respects authority—all the trappings of an officer, really.

That’s not the ‘ _this_ ’ that comes to Finn’s mind, though. He thinks of the _this_ he’s experiencing right now—not the promotion so much as the people around him, laughing and smiling and enjoying themselves. The people who respect him, who care about him. _Poe_ , who somehow seems to respect and care about him more than Finn ever imagined was possible. He doesn’t know _what_ he’s possible done to earn this, to earn Poe’s friendship. Whatever it is, Finn is insanely glad that he’s done it, because now that Poe is in his life… Finn can’t imagine an existence without him.

Especially not when he’s smiling like this, standing close enough that Finn wonders if he can hear the way his heart is hammering.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him speak up, in the end. It’s certainly made him feel everything so much _more_ , and right now, he’s feeling more impulsive than he ever has in his life. When Finn speaks, though, even he’s surprised at the boldness of his words and the firmness with which he says them.

“Dance with me.”

Poe blinks for a moment, watching him—and then he chuckles, a low little thing. “Dance with you?”

“Yes.” Finn’s mind is telling him to take back those words, to try and save face before he’s too far gone, but he’s already made his choice. He’s going to commit to it, now. “Dance with me. Please.”

Poe watches him for one more moment, a twinkle in his eyes that lets Finn know that he’s certainly thinking about something. Finn doesn’t have time to wonder what it is he might be thinking of, though, before that smile on his lips is broadening, and suddenly—suddenly there’s an hand holding his, guiding him back towards the center of the room, where a small crowd has gathered to bob and spin and dance to the rhythm of the music.

Poe guides him through the crowd easily, like the room isn’t swamped with people at all—and somehow, he manages to look at Finn even while weaving his way into the middle of the room, because of course, he’s Poe Dameron and he can do anything. When he glances back at Finn over his shoulder, that bright grin is still on his face, a glimmering shine to his eyes. He calls out to Finn, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music and brimming with pure energy like Finn has never felt before. “Let’s dance, then, buddy!”

Finn thinks, not for the first time, _I love him._ This time, though, he doesn’t push the thought away. He lets himself accept it, and his whole body relaxes as Poe pulls him along with that firm grip to his hand, a thumb brushing the back of his palm again.

_Kriff, I love him._

* * *

By the end of the night, Finn’s feet are crying out in pain.

Poe’s boots are well-worn, so the pain isn’t from stiffness like it would be with new, standard issue trooper boots. The issue doesn’t lie with rigidity, but with the way Finn’s toes are crammed in, his heel constantly chafing the back of the boot. They’re just too small for him, and certainly not comfortable for him to dance in.

Nevertheless, Finn dances. The pain only makes itself obvious when he _stops_ dancing, so he just keeps on going. Even with the pain, he doesn’t know that he’d stop, not when he has Poe _this close_ to him, smiling and laughing and spinning him around, and he just feels so _good_. He’s drunk, yes, but whether the bulk of that drunkenness is from love or alcohol, he’s not sure. He doesn’t care, either.

The party began to wind down a while ago, but even then, even after the people left and the music stopped, he kept dancing. Poe was still holding his hand, twirling him every so often, and Finn found it difficult to willingly separate from him, even when the back of his mind was reminding him that he was needed for duty tomorrow, that he should probably rest some before morning came. He doesn’t want to end this dream, though, not if he can help it.

In the end, it’s Poe who finally pulls away some—and only because Finn had finally stumbled over his foot when the two of them had gotten a little too close. He chuckles lowly, stepping back but not yet taking his hand from Finn’s.

“Should probably get to bed soon, buddy,” he murmurs, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Finn doesn’t think he seems terribly committed to his own words. “Got a big day tomorrow, y’know.”

“I know.” The response is almost immediate, and a little solemn, but just as quickly, Finn is pulling at Poe’s hand, a smile returning to his lips. “C’mon. A little longer?”

For a moment, Poe actually seems to be debating with himself—and then he smiles so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkle, and lets out a dramatic sigh, letting Finn pull him close again. “Can’t say no to you.”

Before, they’d been keeping to the rhythm of the music, even after it had been turned off. Now, though, the rhythm’s all thrown off, and Finn isn’t sure where to start again. Lucky for him, Poe seems to be a natural-born dancer—or, at least, he’s a lot better than Finn is—and he laughs again, this time wrapping an arm around Finn’s waist to pull him closer. _That’s new,_ Finn thinks. Then— _I like that._

The surprise must show on his face, because Poe is smiling again as he watches him, shaking his head a little. Finn blinks, suddenly all too aware of Poe’s gaze on him. “What?”

Poe shakes his head again, but his smile only grows. “Nothing.” He looks almost shy, like he’s keeping some secret. It’s not a look Finn has ever seen on him before. He keeps that expression for one more second before he raises the hand that’s currently holding Finn’s to about his shoulder, and then the secretiveness slips from his face, his eyes meeting Finn’s. “Put your hand on my shoulder.”

Finn probably would’ve followed along immediately, if not for the suspicious change in Poe’s expression. “What? Why?”

Poe laughs again, and kriff, his laugh sounds so _real_. Beautifully real. “What, you don’t trust me?” Finn can barely shake his head before Poe is chuckling again. “C’mon.”

Finn looks up, meeting his eyes for a moment, and Poe raises his eyebrows, as if waiting for him to protest again. Finn sighs and gives a little roll of his eyes, but still reaches his free hand up to rest on Poe’s shoulder. He feels solid.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” Finn comments, looking up again as Poe begins moving a little, taking one small step. “But I’m gonna find out.”

“Don’t doubt that you will, buddy. Now follow my steps, okay?” Finn’s eyes flicker down as Poe takes another step, and awkwardly, he places his own foot forward as Poe’s moves back. Suddenly, he feels pretty self-conscious. Poe senses it, because Poe senses everything, and the arm that’s currently holding his side gets a little more secure.

“That’s good. Just like that. It gets easier the more you do it.” The praise makes him relax and blush at once, and he keeps his gaze down, observing every step of Poe’s feet and matching it with one of his own. It’s still awkward, and more than a couple times, he nearly steps on Poe’s toes, but whenever it starts to get overwhelming or stressful, he feels Poe’s hand at his side again, or the other man is squeezing his hand.

They do it for a while. Finn starts to think he’s getting the hang of it, and then he’ll fumble a step, looking up at Poe as though to apologize and being met only with a bright smile and a reassurance.

After another stumble, Finn can’t help the little chuckle that leaves his lips, embarrassed and a little astonished at how _he’s_ the only one having trouble with this. “How did you get so good at this?”

Poe shrugs. “Practice. You just… fall into the rhythm, after a while, like it’s second nature.” He hesitates, and then continues, voice a little softer. “My mom taught me, when I was really little. She used to have me stand on her toes, and—we’d dance all around.”

Finn looks up, suddenly not caring very much if he misses a step, because before he even sees it, he knows that Poe has that look on his face. It’s one he gets whenever he talks about his mother, or his father, or anything so important to him, really. It’s one that Finn’s woken up to a few times after a particularly bad nightmare, when he’s sweating and screaming and Poe is looking at him with those big, trusting eyes. Poe wears this face even after his own nightmares, sometimes, and that’s how Finn begins to recognize it for what it really means. It means Poe is being vulnerable, is sharing something important with him. That means the world to Finn, that somehow, Poe trusts him enough to be sensitive, and he does everything he can to show Poe just how much it means.

“I bet you were adorable,” Finn says softly, indulging himself in that image—a chubby little Poe running around, probably with a smile just as big as the one Finn is familiar with on adult-Poe. “And… I bet she was a really good teacher.”

Poe smiles faintly, almost sadly, like he’s remembering something, and Finn feels a quick flash of worry. He knows Poe’s mother isn’t alive, and he knows that Poe loves her more than anything in the galaxy, but other than that, his knowledge on the woman is pretty limited. Anxious questions fill his mind, wondering if he’s gone too far, if he’s crossed some unknown boundary. Just as soon as the nerves begin to build up to something truly distracting, Poe speaks up.

“Yeah. She was.” He clears his throat a little, probably clearing up a knot in it. Finn knows, because he’s done the same thing a lot of times. Poe’s eyes are on Finn’s again, and after a beat, the slight sadness that has come to them is replaced again by the light Finn has come to know and love. “Hopefully, I’m half as good,” he adds, a bit of humor returning to his voice that Finn is immensely grateful to hear.

“You’re plenty good,” Finn says quickly, though the honesty of his initial answer quickly twists into a teasing tone as his lips turn into a smirk. “Could use a little work on your posture, but…”

Poe chuckles. Finn counts it as a victory. “Yeah, yeah. I slouch, I know,” he replies with false annoyance, and when Finn grins in response, his cheeks hurt. He misses a step, too busy looking at Poe’s gorgeous eyes, and his own gaze quickly turns back to their feet, frowning as he tries to catch up again. Poe waits until he’s back in the rhythm to speak. “… you’re good, too. Really good.”

Finn looks up again, despite the fact that doing so has literally _just_ made him miss a step. It’s too tempting, when Poe’s voice sounds so sincere. Finn still isn’t totally used to that honest warmth, no matter how long he’s been with the Resistance. “Yeah?” He’s not asking for confirmation, but rather, just to hear that soft voice again.

“Yeah,” Poe confirms, and lets out a slow sigh, one that makes his shoulders relax. “You are. You’re… really good, Finn.” He falters, falling silent, and Finn wonders if he’s still talking about the dancing. Moments pass between them, silent and yet entirely comfortable, before Poe swallows again, meeting his eyes.

“We, uh. We should get to bed.” He glances down at his waist, to the comm strapped there—Black Squadron is never really off-duty, not even for parties—but he doesn’t move his hands just yet. “Probably really late, by now.”

“Probably,” Finn echoes, a little quieter, but he doesn’t move, either. He doesn’t want to, no matter how late it is, no matter how tired or groggy he feels when he stops to think about it.

They stay like that for a few more brief moments, ones that Finn tries with all of his might to commit to his memory, before slowly, Poe pulls his hand from where it’s resting on Finn’s hip. Finn swallows, and quickly removes the hand that’s on Poe’s shoulder. Neither of them takes their hand out of the other’s, though.

“Time to head back?”

“Yeah,” Poe nods. His hand is still in Finn’s. _Please don’t take it away._ “Time to head back.” He glances to the door. The room is empty and quiet around them. It’s just the two of them, hand in hand, and it feels so… _right,_ Finn thinks. _Good. Real._

When Poe steps towards the door, Finn expects him to pull his hand away. He doesn’t. Instead, he leads Finn back to their room, through the deserted hallways of base, just like he had through the crowd of dancing bodies. There’s no _need_ for the handholding now, no risk of them being separated or getting lost like there had been in the heat of the party. Finn, though, is absolutely not complaining.

Poe doesn’t let go until they’re standing outside of their quarters, and Finn thinks that’s probably the best time for him to do it, because they’re going to have to sooner or later. Their beds are on opposite sides of the room, after all. He punches in their entry code quietly, and Finn drops his hand back to his waist as he follows Poe into their room, letting out a slow, tired exhale. Only now is the exhaustion from a night of excitement and partying catching up to him, and it’s leaving him weary, especially now that Poe’s hand isn’t in his, keeping his heart beating away.

Poe’s already moving to his bed, shucking off his shirt, and Finn does the same on his own side of the room, facing the wall as he does. He’s seen Poe shirtless, yes, they’re roommates, but right now, after how close they’d been while they were dancing… Finn really doesn’t want to get himself too excited. He is _tired,_ after all. He needs _some_ sleep before tomorrow. He remembers to take off his badge, carefully setting it aside with his other precious belongings—namely, Poe’s jacket and the starbird pin he also cherishes—before he changes into his pajamas. The pajamas Poe has lent him, actually, because they _still_ haven’t gotten that shipment of clothes yet. As Finn crawls into bed, as he closes his eyes, he thinks that maybe they smell like him. Or maybe—probably, now that he thinks about it—that might just be his drunk, lovelorn mind making things up. Either way, the scent helps him to relax into his bed, blankets drawn up around himself.

He’s still facing the wall, but once the rustling from Poe’s side of the room has mostly subsided, he turns, shifting to get a look at the man. He’s in his own bed, now, tucked under the blankets, and he chuckles as he sees Finn looking at him, opening his mouth to speak—probably to say goodnight, as is their routine by now. Finn beats him to it.

“I had a good time.” The words come out rushed, and he swallows, trying to clarify his speech a little. “… I mean. Tonight. The party. And… the dancing.” Maybe his cheeks are hot, or maybe that’s just the heaviness of his blanket. “I… I had a really good time, Poe. Thank you.”

Poe’s face softens in a way that makes Finn’s chest turn. “I’m glad, buddy,” he says quietly, and he watches Finn again, like he did when they were dancing, like he’s thinking about something. Whatever it is, it looks like he’s almost about to say it, and Finn’s heart soars with all sorts of ridiculous hope. Poe’s face falls a little, though, and he swallows. “… you mean a lot to me, you know?”

It’s not what Finn’s foolish mind thought he might be about to hear, but he doesn’t want to think about that, because those words— _you mean a lot to me_ —make him feel incredibly warm all the same. “I know,” he replies quietly—and then, after a moment, just to make sure, he repeats himself, a little louder this time. “I know.” That Poe means a lot to him, too, goes without saying. Finn trusts that Poe knows by now.

“Good,” Poe says quietly, and he sighs, melting into bed a little more. “Get some sleep, then, yeah? Big day coming up. You’ll need it.”

“Yeah,” Finn murmurs. He lets himself watch Poe for one more moment, taking in every little feature of the man’s face that he can see in the relative darkness of their room—and then, finally, he turns back around, laying back on his comfortable side as he settles in for the night after a long, good, _happy_ day. He stifles a yawn, almost forgetting the final element of their nighttime ritual—but then Poe speaks up, and he pauses, taking in the other man’s words.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.” He can hear the smile in Poe’s voice, no matter how tired the man might be—and Finn smiles, too, drowsy and happy and still pretty drunk. _I love you,_ he thinks, but he can’t say that. Instead, he closes his eyes, breathing in Poe’s scent on his pajamas and thinking about how beautiful he is when he smiles, how good his hand felt in Finn’s, and he says what he can.

“Goodnight, Poe.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!!!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this. i have never slow danced, so sorry if that was horrible.
> 
> if you liked, perhaps consider leaving a kudos or if you are especially bold, a comment. they make me very happy and make me want to write more even when writing sucks. also: i have a few other finnpoe fics that are also fairly soft and loving. perhaps you would like them as well?
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @dotnscal and on twitter @lascndot. thank you again for reading. <33333


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